


I Will Follow You

by lostonthisisland



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Dave's POV, Drug Use, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, M/M, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, but do we really need to tag that when it's Klaus, ghost dave, sorry I didn't get to the rest of the fam, they kind've go hand in hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 02:45:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18306608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostonthisisland/pseuds/lostonthisisland
Summary: After Dave's death on the front lines of the Vietnam War he's pulled through time to witness important points in Klaus' life.Was going for a 5+1 format, but it's a bit looser than that. So, in other words, 5 times Dave sees Klaus and 1 time Klaus sees Dave.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing fanfic that's not RPF because I'm terrified of not getting the character right. But I couldn't resist with TUA, so here we go.
> 
> Title is from 'I Will Follow You' by Ricky Nelson which sounds like something lovesick-sweet I could see Dave singing to Klaus.

#  ☂️

Dave’s world fades around him in a roaring cacophony of explosions, gunfire and someone screaming his name, holding his face. 

 

...Klaus.

 

Choking on his own blood, his vision growing dark and his life slipping away, Dave’s last thoughts are on Klaus and the idea of leaving him hurts more than the bullet that ripped through his chest.

 

But then Klaus is gone. 

 

The war is gone.

 

Dave is standing in a field and the sun blinds him. He should feel the heat of it, on his skin, on his face but instead all he feels is cold inside. Cold and empty and not quite whole, like a stiff breeze could send him spiraling away, floating adrift into the unknown.

 

Despite his unease, he wonders if this is heaven, knowing that he hadn't survived. He couldn’t have survived.

 

His hands wander, up toward his chest and the memory of the all consuming pain that had erupted there, ripped through his insides and left him gasping, gurgling for breath on the front lines. Looking down, he sees shining blood, wet and seemingly still fresh, covering his fatigues. His dog tag is gone, he notices, and Dave is suddenly wondering if Klaus made it out alive without him or if he too is standing in a field somewhere, cold and alone.

 

Before he has much time to contemplate his current existence, whether this place is the afterlife or not, he’s being whisked through time and space. Something invisible but powerful pulls him forward as the world swirls around him in a nauseating span of colors and sounds until he finds himself standing in a kitchen that looks all wrong. Sleek metal and black appliances catch his eye that look almost futuristic but he has barely a second to think about that as he focuses on the people in the room.

 

A woman holding a screaming newborn and a young and pregnant-bellied looking teenager lying on the hard linoleum crying streaks of dark mascara down her face.

 

“Ich will es nicht!” The young girl cries, “Ich will es nicht! Werde es los!”

 

Dave doesn’t understand what the girl is saying, but she sounds terrified and he turns to look at the newborn, small and naked and covered in pink goo, it looks so fragile. 

 

“Hey,” he says, waving his arms at the girl on the ground, “Hello? Can you see me?” Somehow, Dave knows before he asks that she can’t. That no one can. But it doesn’t hurt to try.

 

She ignores him, more words in what he assumes to be German tumbling out of her mouth, angry and fearful sounding.

 

He has a hard time connecting the tiny, screaming infant with the mother who is looking at the child like she’s just given birth to the spawn of Satan. It’s clear she wants nothing to do with the baby and Dave’s heart aches for the little guy, barely established in this life and already unwanted and unloved. 

 

But he doesn’t get to see what’s to come of the child’s fate because he’s already being pulled again, pulled through time, he realizes, further into the future.

 

#  ☂️

Dave is standing in a cemetery beneath pale moonlight amidst a smattering of headstones. He squints to read the nearest one, 

 

_ In Loving Memory of  _

_ Elizabeth B. Williams _

_ In Our Hearts You’ll Live Forever _

_ 1927-1986 _

 

The tombstone looks old and he searches the graveyard for the most current dates he can find.  _ 1991, 1994, 1998, 1999, 2001… _

 

He’s  _ decades _ into the future. 

 

Before he can find any more though, the beam of a flashlight cuts through the cemetery, bouncing it’s way over tombstones until it settles on the side of one of the large mausoleums placed at the back.

 

With the flashlight comes the people behind it, a tall elder gentleman and a young boy, maybe twelve years old from what Dave can see.

 

The man guides the boy with a hand on his back, toward the concrete structure and opens the heavy door, shining his light into the darkness inside.

 

Dave creeps closer, feeling like an enemy spy in hostile territory, somehow thinking that  _ here _ in the eerie dark of the cemetery he could be spotted by these two. Afterall, where better to see a ghost than a graveyard?

 

The boy’s voice, timid and trembling, breaks the quiet, “Dad? Do I have to do this?”

 

Dave’s hackles raise almost immediately, the fear palpable in the young man’s voice hits him like ice water splashed down his back.

 

He hears the old man respond, “Number Four, we’ve already discussed this. The only way to get over this little fear of yours is to face it head on.” With that the man gives the boy a shove, pushing him into the yawning darkness of the mausoleum and Dave feels his unbeating heart ache at the unbridled fear in the boy’s eyes when he turns to face his father.

 

“Dad, wait-” he cries before the man is shutting the door in his face.

 

“This is for your own good, Number Four.” 

 

Dave is running across the graveyard but it’s too late, the door shuts and the man  _ locks  _ it shut.  _ Locks _ his  _ son _ in the dark structure and Dave can’t believe it.

 

“Hey!” He shouts, trying to face the man, waving his hands in front of monocle-clad eyes, “What are you doing?”

 

And from inside the mausoleum he hears the boys cries, getting more and more frantic, muffled behind concrete and calling for his dad to please just let him out, please just let him go home.

 

Dave screams at the man’s retreating form, “You’re just going to leave him in there? Hey!  _ Hey! _ ”

 

But it’s clear that even in a graveyard, Dave still can’t be seen.

 

He makes his way back to the big front door of the mausoleum and listens for the boy inside. He’s stopped yelling for his dad but Dave can hear the whimpers and sobs that come from inside.  

 

He feels helpless. Useless. He reaches for the door and feels nothing. His hand slips through the concrete like water, unable to hold onto any of it.

 

“I’m sorry, kid.” He says, wishing he could help.

 

“H-hello?” He hears from inside, “Is somebody there?” The small voice is thick and wet sounding, but hopeful.

 

“You can hear me?” Dave asks and holy cow, how is that possible because he thought he was dead… no, he knows he’s dead so how could this kid hear him when no one so far has been able to.

 

“Can you let me out? Please,  _ please _ I wanna go  _ home _ .” The kid’s crying again and Dave’s heart breaks all over. How could a father be so cruel? He’s only a  _ child _ for heaven’s sake.

 

Before Dave can answer he hears a different voice, from behind him, then another and another until soon there’s a mob of voices calling out.  _ Help me. Please helpHELP help us HELP US HELPUSPLEASE! _

 

Behind him, people are rising from their graves, dozens of them. They float toward the mausoleum like ghostly spectres, white gowns and suits flapping behind them in an invisible breeze as they converge on the concrete structure and inside Dave can hear the boy muttering over and over again, “nonononononono…”

 

“Hey!” Dave watches as the first of them slip right through the walls, disappearing from view and the boy’s cries from inside turn into screaming.

 

“Leave him alone!” Dave shouts and reaches out to grab one but his hands slip right through the ghost before it too disappears inside and he stares at the door in front of him.

 

Hell, he’s a ghost too, ain’t he?

 

Cautiously, Dave reaches out a hand to the door and watches again as he seems to slip right through it like water. He grits his teeth then, preparing himself for… he doesn’t know what exactly and he pushes through. 

 

Suddenly he’s on the other side of the door, swallowed whole into the interior of the mausoleum and his eyes land on the boy, curled up in the far corner, eyes squeezed shut and hands pressed tight over his ears.

 

Dave rushes to his side, “Hey, kid! I’m here, can you hear me?”

 

But the boy doesn’t respond other than to continue screaming at the other ghosts crowding around him, their mouths open and gaping, hands reaching like claws.

 

“Go away! Go away! Go away!” the boy is screaming and Dave knows he can’t be heard over the din of the other ghosts.

 

He tries to shout at them instead, “Back off!” he cries, swinging a punch at the ones closest and hitting nothing but air, “Leave him alone! Can’t you see he’s scared?”

 

But they just ignore him in favor of their screeching, their pleaing in the boy’s direction.

 

_ HELP US KLAUS! Klaus PLEASE help me KLAUSklaus HELP! _

 

Dave stills, his eyes widening and he turns to look at the boy again. Klaus?

 

It couldn’t be…

 

This didn’t make any sense. Just a coincidence then surely? That these ghosts were calling this boy the name of his former lover because it couldn’t be. From what Dave can tell they’re somewhere in the 2000’s and Klaus,  _ his _ Klaus, would have to be in his 60’s if he were still alive. 

 

Around him the ghosts continue to cry out, Klaus’ name becoming a constant hiss on their lips and Dave hovers, uncertain, over the boy and wishing he were solid enough to give the kid some comfort, solid enough to get them both the hell out of here.

 

Then time is taking him away again, pulling him further forward and Dave can do nothing but watch as the boy and the screaming ghosts disappear behind him. 

 

#  ☂️

He’s standing in a small bedroom. Clothes litter the floor and words and drawings are scrawled onto the walls above and around the single bed. A curtain of beads hangs near the open closet and little white lights are strung around the room.

 

Dave takes this all in for a moment before there’s a body clambering through the window above the bed and Dave has to gasp because… somehow, it’s  _ Klaus _ . 

 

_ His _ Klaus. 

 

Well, almost his Klaus. 

 

The boy who just crawled through the window and dropped unceremoniously onto the small bed has Klaus’ face but younger, softer, still baby-round and covered in a few pubescent red splotches. Dave guesses his age to be around sixteen, but it’s Klaus alright, wearing very tight jeans and a heavy jacket with an umbrella logo stamped on the left breast.

 

He looks like the boy in the mausoleum, too, Dave notes and he has to believe that that’s who that was. That it’s always been Klaus that he’s been seeing.

 

He doesn’t understand  _ how _ or  _ why _ but it’s really him and Dave finds himself smiling at the familiar face.

 

“Klaus,” he says aloud before he can stop himself, but the boy on the bed doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead, Dave watches as the boy digs a joint out of one jacket pocket and a lighter out of another before placing it between his lips and lighting up.

 

Dave feels strange standing in the middle of the teenager’s room, like a creepy voyeur, and takes a hesitant step toward the bed, “Klaus? Can you hear me?”

 

He’s again ignored as teen-Klaus inhales around the joint, the tip burning orange, before he exhales a billow of smoke and hacks a cough immediately after. He giggles a bit crazily to himself afterward and reaches over to the desk at his side for what look like a very slim version of headphones and a small electronic type device they’re attached to before slipping the headphones over his ears and pushing a button on the device.

 

Dave can make out the tinny sound of music coming through the headphones from where he stands a few feet away and watches as the younger Klaus’ eyes slide shut and he nods his head along to the music, smoke drifting lazily from the joint pinched between his lips.

 

He doesn’t understand it… why Klaus could hear him in the mausoleum. Why he could hear all the ghosts that swarmed through the graveyard that night but he can’t hear Dave now?

 

The whole thing is too confusing. 

 

What was his Klaus doing  _ here?  _ In the  _ future? _ Why is Dave seeing him this young? Why can Klaus seemingly hear the dead? Or why did he used to?

 

Klaus should be an old man. A veteran recovered from war. Dave a distant, painful memory but hopefully moved on from. He would have wanted Klaus to find love again, build himself a new family, find happiness. Not… not  _ this. _ This didn’t make any sense.

 

He hears footsteps as they approach the door, then a harsh rap of knuckles on the wood that Klaus clearly doesn’t hear, still lost in his music and his high.

 

Then the door is swinging open and  _ he’s _ standing there _. _ The man from the cemetery, monocle pinched between his brow and cheek and scowling down at Klaus on the bed.

 

“Number Four!” The man bellows and then he’s charging forward and ripping the headphones off of Klaus’s head. 

 

The boy jerks violently, his eyes widening as soon as he sees his father towering over him, “Dad!” He squeaks, plucking the joint from his lips and turning to toss it out the open window he had came in from.

 

But the old man is faster as he grabs hold of Klaus’ wrist and takes the joint from his fingers.

 

“What is this?” The man scowls, his brow furrowing deep enough Dave is surprised it doesn’t crack that stupid monocle.

 

“Jeez, doesn’t anyone knock in this house?” Klaus rolls his eyes, seeming indifferent to his father storming in and catching him smoking weed.

 

“How can you continue to advance your powers if you keep poisoning your body with this filth?” his father asks, hoisting the joint higher to emphasize his point, “You’re deliberately stunting your ability, Number Four, and I won’t stand to see it in my house any longer.”

 

Klaus sits up a little further in his bed, red tinged eyes blinking to focus on his father, “Oh, what, that?” he nods at the joint in the old man’s hands with a little laugh, “Y’know, I thought that was a regular cigarette, honest. There’s nothing I want more than to see all those ...rotting corpses up close and personal. Afterall, they’re what’s going to make me a true superhero, isn’t that right?” Klaus rambles, his voice lilting and sarcastic as his hands idly searching through his jacket pockets.

 

“I’m serious, Number Four,” the old man chastises, “If you cannot put a stop to this foolishness then I have no reason to keep you here.”

 

Dave watches the little lines that etch themselves between Klaus’ eyebrows as he takes in his father’s words, “What-?” he whispers in disbelief, glazed eyes struggling to focus on his dad, “What are you saying, Dad?”

 

Dave feels like demanding that very same question to this man who clearly has a block of ice in place of a heart.

 

“It’s your choice, Number Four,” god, Dave wishes he would stop  _ calling _ him that, “You either get sober and continue with your training or you get out.”

 

There’s a terrible silence that stretches between the two of them after those words are spoken and Dave suddenly remembers a night back in 1968, the two of them huddled together on a dirty motel bed at two in the morning. They were finally on leave for a week and couldn’t wait to spend every second together. They’d holed up in a motel room without leaving for two days straight, finally,  _ finally _ having some time alone together. He’d spent those two whole days worshipping Klaus’ body, committing every inch of skin, every scar, every freckle to memory. 

 

Eventually, after they had exhausted themselves exploring each other, they had stayed up all night just talking. He had curled himself against Klaus’ chest, his ear pressed to hear the other man’s steady heartbeat and Klaus’ fingers lazily petting through his hair, and he had talked for  _ hours _ about his family back in the States. He was homesick and had babbled on forever before he’d realized Klaus hadn’t gotten a word in edgewise. 

 

_ “Listen to me,” Dave had laughed, “I’ve talked your ear off about them, I’m sorry.” He grinned and turned to face Klaus, his head settling down to pillow on the other man’s thighs. _

_ Klaus only smiled down at him, shrugging like it really didn’t matter, “I love listening to you talk about your family,” Klaus had said, “It’s all so… apple pies and picket fences” he had laughed and Dave smiled back. _

 

_ “Are you making fun of me? You’re saying I’m boring?” Dave teased, his hand reaching up to stroke Klaus’ jaw, still unable to stop touching, even after the last 48 hours they couldn’t separate themselves from one another. It made Dave smile, deliriously happy for the first time since he’d stepped foot in Vietnam. He couldn’t wait until this was over, until they were done with the war. He wanted to bring Klaus home to meet his family and live a boring apple pie life with him forever. _

 

_ “No, no.” Klaus had laughed, and looked down at Dave with soft eyes, “Just the opposite, Davey. Your family sounds so  _ normal _ , so happy and completely different from mine.” _

 

_ His tone had grown bitter at the mention of his own family and Dave found his smile faltering, “Well, what’s yours like?” He’d asked and gotten a scowl from Klaus in return. _

 

_ “Dear old Dad, the callous bastard and his little numbered soldiers...” Klaus had murmured, “Trust me, it’s better off you don’t know.” _

 

_ Dave sat up then, noting the way Klaus had seemed to draw in on himself, his walls coming back up for the first time since they’d been on leave. _

 

_ “Hey, hey, come on,” Dave pressed a kiss into the corner of Klaus’ mouth and was satisfied when a bit of his smile returned, “We don’t need to talk about them. Come back to me.” _

 

_ He gathered Klaus up in his arms, their positions reversing, and pressed a kiss into the other man’s tousled hair, “We can talk about something else.” He heard Klaus hum in response and they sat quiet for a minute or two before the other man spoke. _

 

_ “Or,” Klaus said, sounding suddenly energized and twisting in his arms until they were facing again, “We can put our mouths to better use.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows for good measure, making Dave blush, an excited little thrill zipping through his body. _

 

_ “Again? Don’t you ever tire?”  _

 

_ Klaus straddled him and shrugged in return, “Oh fine then,” he had sing-songed, stretching his lithe body toward the ceiling like a cat and Dave couldn’t help but reach out to touch, “The old man needs his sleep, I’ll let you-” he made a move to get off the bed but Dave grabbed his hips before he got the chance. _

 

_ “On second thought,” Dave grinned and Klaus smiled back before they were kissing again, lovesick and happy and feeling like they had all the time in the world. _

 

Dave comes back to himself, standing in teen Klaus’ room, in the tense silence draped over them like a heavy tarp, cold and suffocating.

 

That had been the closest Dave had ever gotten to hearing about Klaus’ family. He knew Klaus didn’t like to talk about it and from the constant nightmares and the way he never hesitated to  turn to drugs and alcohol for an escape, Dave had got to thinking he’d grown up in a pretty abusive household.

 

“You’re  _ kicking  _ me  _ out? _ ” Teen Klaus asks eventually, eyes red rimmed and Dave can’t tell if it’s just from the weed anymore.

 

“Only if you won’t put an end to this.” His father says and Klaus shakes his head, a laugh bubbling up from his mouth, “ _ What _ is so funny?” the old man asks.

 

Klaus just stares at his father, eyebrows turned up in a way that makes his face look so, so young and vulnerable, it breaks Dave’s heart, “I can’t… I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that.” Klaus says.

 

His father finally breaks eye contact with him, looking down at the floor and nodding for a moment before he glances back up, shoulders squared, “Then you are no longer welcome here, Number Four. Pack your things and get out.”

 

He turns and leaves and Dave wants to reach out, wants to take young Klaus in his arms and hold him, give him the love, the acceptance he so clearly needs. But he can’t, Klaus can’t hear him, see him, and even if he could, he’s a ghost. What sort of comfort could he possibly offer?

 

Instead, he watches as Klaus curls in on himself, hands wrapped around pulled up knees he sits on the bed and Dave hears a wet sniffle before suddenly he’s moving. He stands and wipes at his eyes and then he’s reaching under his mattress for something, a small bag with pills inside, Dave finds out. 

 

Klaus doesn’t hesitate to dump them in his palm and swallow all three of them before he’s grabbing a backpack and then throwing clothes into it angrily.

 

Dave watches as he turns and leaves the way he came, through his open bedroom window. 

 

And just before Dave can feel time pull him away again, just before Klaus’ childhood bedroom disappears from view Dave thinks he sees someone follow Klaus through the window. Someone Klaus’ age, a young boy dressed in a school uniform and covered in something dark and shining. 

 

It takes Dave a minute to realize that it had been blood. That Klaus was still haunted by ghosts other than himself.

 

#  ☂️


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a little angstier than I originally had planned but I'm just glad it's finished! This whole story was literally my entire Sunday - I had fun writing it. :) Please let me know what you think!

#  ☂️

The quiet of Klaus’ bedroom fades into the loud thumping beat of a dance floor and strobe lights that have Dave squinting everytime they flash blinding bright in his direction.

 

Around him bodies swarm, gyrating and pulsing with the music, passing in and out of his non corporeal form and he feels strangely violated at that and makes his way off the dance floor, finding a relatively empty spot for him to stand, unseen.

 

Dave’s eyes scan the room, searching for the reason he must have been pulled here, and frowns when he can’t find him.

 

For a moment, the club makes Dave think of that night, all those months ago, or  _ years _ technically. The disco, getting drunk and dancing loose and carefree with this gorgeous man who had suddenly appeared in his life. They’d shared their first kiss together that night, Dave so terribly afraid he was reading the signals wrong, bravely (and with the help of a lot of hard liquor) he had made the first move, his hand finding Klaus’ face, cupping and caressing in a way that left no room for interpretation. 

 

The kiss, soft and sweet and  _ electric,  _ had stayed with him for a long time. Something beautiful to think about during those dark nights back at camp, or spent scared and exhausted in a foxhole, where they often still found company in each other but didn’t dare touch in a way that could be seen as intimate in the presence of their comrades. 

 

The heavy tempo changes to something slightly slower and Dave is brought back to the present. The music so jarringly loud and the room so dark he wonders what’s the point of coming to a club like this when you can’t even see or hear the people around you properly.

 

After scanning the dancefloor again, Dave decides to wander off into the hallway that leads to the bathrooms and presumably a back entrance, looking for somewhere quieter.

 

He’s just passing the men’s bathroom when he hears what sounds like a loud slap of skin on skin and curious, slips in through the closed door.

 

The bathroom is dimly lit, one fluorescent tube of light flickers against the graffiti filled room, blinking rapidly above its occupants and throwing them in and out of the shadows.

 

Dave is able to make out three men, one of which is instantly recognizable as his former lover, a bit younger than Dave remembers him in Vietnam, maybe twenty or so.

 

One of the other men, shirtless and muscled, covered in dark tattoos, has Klaus pinned against the wall between the stalls and the sinks. Dave instantly feels the shock of fear and adrenaline jolt through his body, ready to pummel the muscled guy into a pulp, but Klaus is laughing and Dave watches on confused.

 

The other man, clad in a leather jacket with his back to Dave, merely stands and watches too.

 

“Shut the fuck up!” The muscled guy says, giving Klaus a shake where he has his hands fisted in the t-shirt Klaus is wearing.

 

“Woah, woah, woah-” Klaus says and he holds up his palms in a placating gesture- HELLO, GOODBYE. Dave feels a tiny wave of relief wash over him at the familiar tattoos, somehow cementing to him that this is in fact  _ his _ Klaus and not some alternate timeline Klaus, some reincarnated Klaus. He knows the ink on those hands intimately.

 

“Look, I’m good for it,” Klaus is saying, “Don’t worry, big guy, you’ll get your money.” He’s got that glazed look in his eyes, that lunatic grin that Dave knows unfortunately too well. Klaus is high as a kite, off his head on some psychedelic or amphetamine, god only knows.

 

It wasn’t unusual, back in ‘Nam, to be taking those kinds of drugs. Hell, Dave had participated enough times, relishing the way it numbed him to the violence they saw on a daily basis but he knew a hard addict when he saw one, and Klaus was the worst he’d seen. But, in war, he’d been able to forgive him more times than not. What else could he do? When he saw the way Klaus’ demons tore him from sleep night after night, sweating and mumbling and so goddamn  _ afraid _ . It had torn Dave up on the inside, watching Klaus suffer, and so he’d turned a blind eye to Klaus’ drug use. Happy to see the weight lift from the other man’s shoulders, that haunted look gone from his eyes.

 

He’d told himself it would be something he’d deal with when they got back to the States, when they were done and the ghosts were behind them.

 

Dave hadn’t realized how wrong he’d been.

 

Another harsh slap pierces the air and Dave catches Klaus’ head whip to the side, a grimace on his face.

 

“ _ Hey! _ ” Dave shouts, taking a few steps forward, and to his surprise, Klaus doesn’t turn to look at him but the third man, the one in the leather jacket  _ does _ .

 

He stops in his tracks as he meets eyes with the young asian man who apparently can  _ see _ him.

 

“You can see me?” Dave sputters, and watches the other man’s features blink in and out of focus beneath the flickering bathroom light.

 

“What are you doing here? You need to go. Leave him.” The young man says, his voice hard, “He can’t see you anyway, so get lost.”

 

Dave frowns,  _ Who are you? _ He’s about to ask but then the muscle guy is yelling in Klaus’ face and, Dave belatedly realizes, is holding a  _ knife _ to his throat.

 

“If you don’t get me my money in the next  _ minute _ I’m gonna stick you like a pig!” the guy yells and to Klaus’ credit, he stops his maniacal laughing and manages to sober marginally to the moment.

 

“Oohh, you don’t want to do that,” Klaus drawls, “Don’t you know who I  _ am? _ ” he asks, overly indignant and stands up taller from where he’s slouched against the wall, “I’m the  _ Séance! _ ” he cries with a flourish and another bout of laughter as he spreads his arms wide, “King of the Dead, haven’t you heard?”

 

Beside Dave, the guy in the leather jacket speaks up, “ _ Klaus _ .” he warns through gritted teeth.

 

“Ben!” Klaus cries in return, his eyes focusing on the man in the leather jacket, “ _ Get him,  _ Ben. Sic ‘em!” Klaus giggles deliriously while the muscled man turns to look briefly behind him, eyes seemingly passing through both this Ben and Dave, leaving Dave more confused than ever.

 

“Shut up!” the guy says and slams Klaus back into the wall, making Dave bristle as he hears the crack Klaus’ skull makes against the tiled walls.

 

“ _ Oww _ .” Klaus complains, rubbing the back of his head, “Too hard, be gentle with me, would ya?”

 

“Do you have my money or not?” the man asks, and presses the tip of his knife into Klaus’ throat.

 

Klaus hisses in return, cat-like, and Dave can’t believe what he’s seeing. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise him, to see Klaus like this, drugged to his eyeballs and nonchalant in the face of danger, but it scares him to no end. He turns to Ben, wondering why the hell he hasn’t made a move yet since he does seem to care about Klaus’ fate.

 

“What’ll it be?” knife-guy is saying and Klaus is blinking and failing to focus on the threat in front of him.

 

“I didn’t realize you were so kinky,” Klaus says in lieu of a reply, “Why don’t you and me get out of here, huh? You and your little friend,” he nods as best he can to the knife at his neck, “We’ll go somewhere private and we’ll have a little knife play, yeah? I can work off what I owe, okay?”

 

The proposal makes Dave sick to his stomach, hearing those words come out of Klaus’ mouth. Offering himself like that… he shakes his head, trying to rid the words, rid any images that try to come forth. 

 

Then the guy is screaming in Klaus’ face, “Answer me, you faggot!” his features morphed into disgust and for the first time since he’s stepped foot in this bathroom Dave thinks he sees real fear seep into Klaus’ eyes.

 

“I don’t have it.” Klaus says, “But I can-”

 

The knife stabs into Klaus’ stomach and Dave is screaming, somebody else is screaming, the pulsing, bumping tempo of the club outside the bathroom seems to come back in louder than he remembers and he realizes it’s because muscle guy is leaving, running. The door to the bathroom swings open, noise floods into the bathroom for a couple of seconds before the door swings shut and it’s muted once more.

 

Klaus is on the ground and both he and Ben are reaching through him, their hands slipping and never touching and somewhere in the back of Dave’s mind he registers that Ben is a ghost. And Ben yells at him to leave, that this doesn’t concern him, and despite himself Dave backs up a few steps, hovering over the two because he doesn’t know what else to do. There’s nothing he  _ can _ do.

 

He watches as Klaus’ shirt becomes stained bright red, it spreads through the cotton and slides down skin where his stomach is exposed, spilling, pooling dark on the dirty floor and the bulb above them flickers in and out of the wet reflection.

 

“Chr-christ on a…” Klaus mumbles, his hands shaking over the wound, blood that looks black and inky in the dim lighting seep through his fingers, “I’m coming, Ben.” he says, flashing a short goofy smile before his features warp back into a painful grimace.

 

“No, Klaus,” Ben is saying, “You’re gonna be fine, everything’s gonna be okay.” and it sounds like an obvious lie by the way his voice shakes and cracks but Dave suddenly believes it.

 

He believes it because he has a memory, that first night in the motel, when he’d memorized Klaus’ skin. His lips had come across a scar, pinkish white and about two inches long on his ribs.

 

_ “What happened here?” Dave had asked, worry creeping into his voice because it looked painful, because it looked an awful lot like a stab wound, because he couldn’t imagine somebody wanting to hurt this beautiful man. _

 

_ Klaus had reached for his face, HELLO cupping his jaw and urging him back up the bed, which he dutifully obeyed.  _

 

_ “I was careless.” Klaus had said and Dave hadn’t like how that had sounded, his concern must have shown on his face though because then Klaus was saying, “Don’t worry about it, love.” and Dave had stared into those mossy eyes, his fingers gently ghosting once over the newly discovered scar. _

 

_ “Does it hurt?” He’d asked, eyebrows knitted while he still tried to fathom how it could have gotten there. _

 

_ And Klaus had smiled at him like he was a gift, eyes crinkling warmly at the corners, “No. Not anymore.” _

 

It had been another one of Klaus’ secrets, another hint at his painful past and Dave had let the matter drop, never one to push Klaus to tell him things he had no right to ask for.

 

In the blinking light of the bathroom, Klaus is passed out on the floor, Ben hovers over him, his features pinched and worried. Dave is about to try to reassure him, tell him that Klaus survives this but then the door is flinging back open, the pulsing of the club washes over them and somebody is yelling, “Oh my god! Call 9-1-1!”

 

Time, thankfully, pulls him forward again and the loud and ugly scene in the bathroom fades away.

 

#  ☂️

Dave is sitting on a bench. 

 

He blinks at the sudden quiet. Birds chirp and light traffic drives by in front of him, a few people walk up and down the sidewalks. It’s an abrupt change from the club and Dave takes a moment of the silence to breathe, even if he is technically dead.

 

He doesn’t know how much more he can take.

 

Everything he’s seen of Klaus’ life so far has been painful. Rejection, abuse, violence... He doesn’t want to see more. He can’t bear to see any more.

 

He’s known, he’s always known Klaus’ past held skeletons, things that were just too awful to bring out into the light of day but he can’t keep going like this. It’s breaking him. 

 

He wants to hold and heal and comfort and he can’t! He’s useless. A bystander in his lover’s torment. It’s not fair. None of this should have ever happened, it was never fair. He didn’t deserve  _ any _ of it.

 

Dave cries, or he does the closest thing a ghost can do to crying, whatever that may be. He lets himself grieve and feel the pain he’s seen the man he loves go through, cursing the unfairness of it all. 

 

Then, a bus pulls up to the curb.

 

Dave stands and blinks at it as the doors slide open and Klaus is there, clutching a familiar looking briefcase to his chest and Dave’s breath falls short because Klaus is wearing his army fatigues. 

 

There’s blood on his hands and tears streaming down his face and Dave knows instantly, somehow, he knows what’s happened. 

 

He’s traveled this far into the future as a ghost how could he not believe somehow Klaus has time traveled back to him? He understands it now.

 

And Dave watches as his heart, already broken into a million pieces, turns to shards of glass that detonate in his chest as he watches Klaus smash the briefcase and scream and  _ break _ in front of him. It kills him inside, to see that  _ he _ is the one who’s caused Klaus the most pain.

 

Not his birth mother that abandoned him, not his abusive father, not his distant siblings or the strangers that only cared about his money but  _ him. _

 

Klaus collapses to the ground, sobs wracking his frame, hands clutching at his middle and Dave hates himself for ever leaving. Hates himself for being the reason for Klaus’ grief. He wishes he could take it all back. 

 

Klaus was never supposed to be there in the first place. He wishes he could go back and never take them down that path. He wants to trade in every beautiful perfect second with this man for no memory of them together whatsoever if it means sparing Klaus this moment. He doesn’t want to be the reason, he can’t be the reason for this torment, this absolute suffocating agony. He can’t.

 

He can’t.

 

#  ☂️

_ Dave. _

 

He’s spent so long in the dark.

 

Time has no meaning anymore, but he’d found a way to stop the jumps, to get himself off the trajectory. He couldn’t bear to see where it was going to take him next.

 

The dark stretches around him, a constant presence, and Dave welcomes it grudgingly, knowing it’s better than the alternative. 

 

_ Dave. _

 

It comes to him again, his name, quietly, distantly and he thinks about answering it. He’s spent a long time in the dark. 

 

_ Dave. _

 

It takes some time, of which he has plenty, and eventually the calls become more persistent. They become clearer, more urgent and Dave has a hard time ignoring them.

 

_ Dave. _

 

After a long while he gives in, because he’s spent too much time in the dark… he misses the light.

 

_ Dave? _

 

He’s standing in a field and the sun is shining. It’s warm on his skin and Dave smiles, having missed the warmth.

 

When he blinks his eyes open he realizes he’s not actually in a field, but a courtyard. There’s a gazebo to his right and a black marble statue of a boy in front of him. There’s an obscene amount of duct tape holding it together.

 

But more importantly, absolutely most importantly, sitting cross legged on the ground in front of him, palms held loosely upright atop his folded knees,  _ HELLO GOODBYE _ , sits Klaus.

 

And Dave can’t remember why he’s kept his distance for so long, seeing those mossy eyes open and land on him, Dave curses himself for ever keeping himself in the dark so long.

 

“Dave,” Klaus says, breathing his name like something precious, something adored, “What took you so long?”

 

His eyes crinkle, familiar, a beautiful just-for-him, just-for-Dave smile on his face, Klaus unfolds himself and stands smoothly from his position on the ground and Dave wants to  _ touch _ him, more than anything he wants to  _ hold on. _

 

And then Klaus is there, in his space and he’s wrapping his arms around Dave and he’s crying because he can  _ feel it. _ Klaus is there, solid and warm and Dave clings back and they’re laughing but there’s tears, hot and wet, slicing down his cheeks.

 

“I’ve missed you so much,” Klaus says and it breaks Dave’s heart to hear the longing in that sentence. He echoes the sentiment, his arms holding Klaus tighter, afraid this moment is going to shatter and blow away if he doesn’t cling tight enough to it.

 

He doesn’t know how long they hold on to each other, making up for a lifetime of lost touches and the years of space that kept them separated but they hold on for as long as they can.

 

Then, because he can’t keep it in any longer, Dave breaks the silence. “How?” he asks, “How am I here? How, Klaus,  _ how? _ ”

 

They pull back from each other, just enough to see and Klaus has tears in his eyes, tracking down his face and Dave brushes his thumb against his skin, warm and  _ real _ .

 

“Turns out I had  _ untapped potential _ afterall.” Klaus says before he waves a dismissive hand in the air, “I have a lot of catching you up to do.”

 

“Probably not as much as you think.” Dave says and he can’t keep the smile off his face, his hands are around Klaus’ waist and he doesn’t want to ever let go.

 

“Oh? Pray tell.” Klaus says.

 

“I will. In time.” Dave answers, his eyes drinking in Klaus, still trying to believe in this moment.

 

Klaus smiles, happy and warm, sunshine radiating through, and it’s the most beautiful sight Dave has ever known.

 

“Well,  _ that _ ,” Klaus says, “Is something we definitely have.”

 

_ Fin. _

 

#  ☂️


End file.
